


The Richest Source

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 33 Day Guro Challenge, Amputation, Cannibalism, Gore, Guro, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorter fills for the <a href="http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/post/147223172646/33-days-of-guro-kylux-challenge">kylux 33 days of guro challenge.</a></p><p>Each chapter contains a trope. longer fills will be posted independently</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: amputation

He's glad that they're not in his quarters, doesn't want to have to clean things up if they go wrong. And he's still not sure why Ren is letting him do this, why he'd come to Hux, of all people, tears still drying on his face. 

“I have to. Please, please don't make me do it alone. Please.” And Hux can't pretend to understand why _Ren_ wants this, but there had been, when he explained it all, an odd shudder though Hux's stomach, a want to take, and hold, and keep. And its still there, still pooling in the bile that burns at the back of his throat. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” And he doesn't know what he'll do if Ren says no, doesn't let him have this now that is is so close. Because every time he closes his eyes, it all he can see, Ren's face twisting, eyes shining, desperate. 

“I have to do this, Hux. It's the last piece of the puzzle. I'm certain of it now.” He waves his hands together in a wild gestures. “I'll never truly be like Anakin, never really achieve anything like this. I know it. You've got to help me.” Hux nods.

“You're not going to die of shock on me or something, are you?” A shrug in response, but also a curt denial. And Hux has heard of it, or course. Of Force user losing a limb, going on with the battle as though nothing has happened. But he'd never thought he'd get to see it. 

It makes his skin feel to tight, too hot. 

But Ren has said yes, again and again, kneeling at Hux's feet, saber on the floor in front of them. And now is the time. 

The saber is heavy as Hux picks it up, surprisingly so. He'd always thought it must be a little thing of metal and glass, Ren swinging it without a second thought, fast enough that the blade blurs. 

Hux wonders if he will still be able to. After.

There's no reason not, of course. Hux isn't going to touch his right hand, isn't going to do anything to damage how much use he can be to the Order. But still, Hux wonders. Imagines. Dreams. He reaches forward. 

And Ren's holding up his left hand, reaching out in a plea – _make me like Vader_ – and Hux laces his fingers through Ren's. A gentle squeeze, a flutter of a nail across the inside of Ren's palm. And it's not as though Ren won't feel this again. Cybernetics are good enough for that. But it will be just a little different, a hand of metal and machinery, not flesh and bone. And Hux wants to feel the tremor that ripples through this breathing flesh. 

“Last chance.”

“Do it.” And Ren takes a deep breath as Hux swings the saber up, lets it come down hissing and spitting.

Dimly, so dimly, Hux is impressed. Ren doesn't scream. No, he crumples back onto the floor, cupping his arm to his chest, breathing so hard that the sound feels the room. And there are little whimpers spilling out of him, pained moans that almost sound like pleasure. But it's all distant, something Hux notes and pushes aside. 

Because he is looking at something far more important. 

When they'd talked about this before, Ren had assured him that saber would cauterize flesh instantly, that there would be no blood. He's wrong. There's a single drop on the floor, gleaming dully. But that's not what holds Hux's attention. No, it's what he still has clasped tight in his fingers. 

It's beautiful. 

And Hux has never seen something like this, not up close. No, his experience in battles has been at a screen, directing, planning, organizing. And he's shot a trooper before, had to be done, no way to avoid it. But this? He's never had this. 

Ren's fingers are still warm when he brings the hand up. And before he can even think of what he's doing, he's caressing them over his cheek, cupping Ren's severed hand around his face. And then he's licking at the fingers, the taste of ash and metal thick on his tongue. Sucking them one by one into his mouth, cleaning them. Tracing the palm of the hand with his lips, soft little bites along it. He wants more.

It's a moan of his name, thick, needy, that brings him away. And he suddenly realizes what he's doing, Ren's severed hand cupped around his face. The hand is falling from him before he has another thought, making a thick sound as it hits the ground. And Ren himself is staring at Hux. 

Hux is half afraid to meet Ren's eyes, not after the display he just put on. But when he finally looks up, Ren is smiling, even through the tears streaking his face. And he's still panting, must be in agony. But he reaches his good hand out to Hux from where he's sprawled on the floor, stump cradled to his chest. 

And Hux goes, almost in a trance. 

And he doesn't know what's happening, only that there's something light bubbling up in his stomach, and Ren has given him such a gift, and he needs more, and Ren is reaching out to pull him down onto the floor. He kneels to straddle Ren's hips, and Ren is surging forward, good hand cupping around Hux neck, pulling him forward. 

Ren's lips feel almost as good in Hux's mouth as his fingers did. 

He's panting into Hux's mouth, and they need to get him to medical, but Hux doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to pull away, because this, _this_ is what he's needed all this time. And he wants to run fingers over the stump, to feel at it, at that twisted and burned flesh. 

Ren's scream makes him realize he's really done it. 

But Ren is still kissing him, tugging Hux closer and closer with the one hand he has left. And Hux is drowning in it...


	2. Vain Immitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: Cannibalism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All thanks to [@artyaorter](http://artyaorter.tumblr.com/) for all her help on this fic.

“I just want to know about the ashes, Kylo. That's all. Just the ashes” Hux's eyes are bright, face still a little flushed, color high across his cheeks. Mouth beautiful, bitten. And Kylo thinks back, thinks of those years ago, when he'd first come to the knights, first become Kylo.

_“Don't worry. This will be fun. We promise” And they are all crowded around him, these friends he had been given, these people who cared for him for the first time. That wanted him. And then they're off, moving away, and he has to jog to catch up._

_“Where are we going?”_

_“There are some traitors waiting for us to catch up to them.”_

And Kylo remembers wondering why a traitor would ever wait for that, would let people like the knights get anywhere near him. It was only after they'd finally wound their way through the city, ducking through alleys and down back ways, that he realized this was a chase, casual, easy. Like a loth cat stalking prey. 

_“Who are they?”_

_“Defectors from the First Order.” From Snoke, that meant, which meant they were traitors. Which meant they had to die. Kylo takes a deep breath, focuses again, tries to push away the excitement flooding though him._

_“Let it fill you, Kylo. Don't try to hold back.” A whisper in his ear, a heavy hand on his shoulder._

_The defectors are cowering in a corner, and it's little work to run a saber through the heart of one of them, to watch as the rest of the Knights do their work, to feel the tremors through him, fluttering and flickering pulses in the Force as they lose their petty little lives. And Kylo laughs._

Hux is stroking a hand through his hair, humming slightly. He's waiting. And Kylo remembers...

_They'd finally finished with the defectors, and Kylo has the stink of death hot in him, the roar of it flooding through all his senses. And then... and then he watches as one of the knights walks towards the bodies._

_“What's he doing?” Question whispering out of the corner of his mouth, sliding past his lips before he can pull it back. An hand shifting on his shoulder, heavy._

_“Wait, learn.”_

_And then, back at the compound they've taken as their own, he looks on as a knight unpacks the huge sack he's lugged all the way from that abandoned warehouse where they found the deserters. Unpacks five arms, one from each of the deserters._

_They're still a little bloody._

_He didn't use a saber to remove them._

_And the stench of death is stronger here, now, an hour in the making. Kylo breathes it in, gasps it. Lets it flood through him. The knight strips them, bloody wrappings off meat too fresh. And then he's setting a fire in the center of the hall, assembling something that looks..._

_That looks suspiciously like a spit._

_And Kylo has never seen one before, not really, because..._

_Because Ben didn't eat meat._

_Jedi._

_But now he looks on in fascination, watches as the knight slides a sharp knife through flesh and sinew, detaches figures and hands, disjoints elbows. And he's left with a collection of pieces, a pile that is nothing more than blood and bone and meat._

_“Why,” Kylo hears himself ask._

_“To remember, to keep.” And Kylo nods. Understands._

_But, later, with a charred bit of meat in front of him, grease dripping off his fingers (thick arms, that one had) he can't keep it down. Retches, stomach not used to the richness. Feels the strange texture in his mouth, the tear and pull of his teeth, the way the muscle feels slimy in his mouth._

_Heaves it all up in a corner._

_Ashamed._

_Humiliated by his weakness, just as he always is._

_And he never does learn to do it. He never can sink his teeth into the tight muscles of a vanquished enemy, tear it apart, swallow those small pieces down one by one, feel them on his tongue. Lick drippings from his fingers with a pleased smile on his face. There is too much of Ben in him, body betraying him with its reactions._

_But he needs something._

_Needs to keep the vanquished with him in some way._

“Kylo?” He looks up, and realizes that he still hasn't answered Hux's question. Instead, he's been lying in bed, Hux's thumb smoothing across his cheekbone, remembering. 

“It's a ritual of the knights,” he half-lies, and as Hux nods, leans down to kiss him, he cringes inside. No, not a ritual of the knights. Only his vain imitation.


	3. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: Torture devices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, fills too short for AO3 for the challenge are up on [my tumblr](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/) tagged as Kylux 33 Days of Guro

“Cleaned out, you said. Purified. You want me to make you better, Ren?” Hux stalks around, runs his eyes down Ren’s naked back, rakes them over him as he kneels in the center of the room. “Well, let’s start here. Ranting and raving and never actually _doing_ anything. Let’s fix this, once and for all.” Ren turns to look, tracks Hux with his heavy gaze as Hux walks to the table against one wall.

“Do you know what this is, Ren?” Ren shakes his head, the question wide in is eyes, but thankfully not on his lips. “It’s called a heretic’s fork. Long ago, they were used throughout the unknown reaches. You can still find them on some backwoods planets, people worshiping harsh gods and unknown masters.” He walks back to Ren, smooths his hand down Ren’s pretty, pretty cheek. Then he tips Ren’s chin up with a single finger, stroking, petting the soft column of Ren’s throat.

The fork fits perfectly, lower tines resting on Ren’s chest, upper ones snug against the bottom of his jaw. Hux buckles the heavy leather strap around his neck, steps away. Ren’s face is tilted up, as though in awe or wonder. As it is meant to be, as it always should be when he looks at Hux. Hux walks further back, settles himself in the armchair across from the table. As he moves away, Ren tries to lower his chin, track after Hux with those huge eyes.

He yelps.

The tines press into his chin, his chest, and there’s a drop of blood that runs down the curve of a pec. Hux smiles. Just so.

“Don’t try to talk, Ren. Don’t argue, don’t interrupt. You’re going to listen to me this once, and you aren’t going to say anything.” And Ren can’t even nod. But he’s still kneeling there, still offering himself to Hux in every twitch of his fingers at his side, in every moment that he stays bound like a sinner before Hux’s morning star.

“I don’t understand you, Ren. All that power, everything you have, and do you use it? You’re nothing more than a petty child, railing against the unfairness of the world. Well, let me be the one to inform you, Ren. Life isn’t fair. Do you think I asked to be born, I asked to claw my way up from the dying ashes of a broken nation? Do you think that somehow I awoke one day, found myself with a starship and a command?” Hux spits a little. Ren’s silence is overwhelming, giving Hux power that grates against his bones. It’s too much and just right at the same time.

“And you sit there and you think that everything should be just as you desire, only because _you want it to be so_. Well, let me tell you something else, Ren. There is no benevolent master, deity, god, someone who will step in and make it so. There is only the dirt, and the dust, and the blood that covers your fucking hands. And you’re no better than the rest of us, no less a pig, a murderer than we are. Don’t you dare be self righteous about it. You deserve this. To listen and to hear the awful truth. If you can’t live with that, what the fuck are you doing?” And the words are dripping off Hux’s tongue now, falling to flow over Ren’s silent aching plea for absolution.

“And I can never clean you of it. Not if you knelt for me for a thousand years, a thousand turns of the galaxy. Never, Ren. Because you’re dirty to the core, covered in filth. And the sooner you come to know that, the better.” Ren is crying now, and Hux has never felt like this, an oracle of truth before an acolyte of the Dark. Ren tries to speak, bites back a scream as the fork presses into his chin. Blood is trickling down his throat now, and Hux smiles at it.

“But Ren, that’s the thing. It doesn’t matter. You think that I care that you’re broken, wrong? No. You think that you can’t remake the universe because of that twisted thing that hides inside you? That’s shit, Ren. Of course you can. Because we’re all like that, deep inside. And maybe you’re no better than the rest of us, but you’re no worse either. And you, you and I, we’ll tear apart this mess of a galaxy and we’ll put the pieces back together. We’ll change things, and it doesn’t matter that we’re covered in filth and hate and blood. _We will._ ” Ren sobs, choking, trying desperately not to lower his chin as snot and tears drip across his face. A sad, childlike thing, and he’ll take anything Hux gives him, take it and roll over to show his soft underbelly, just to get a chance to be wanted. Hux stands, comes to stand before him.

“I’ll never purify you, Ren. I can’t clean you. No one can. But pardons are just lies that the weak tell.” He unbuckles the fork, pulls it away from Ren’s throat. Kneels down before Ren and runs his thumb across the marks underneath his chin. Ren lowers his face gratefully, tears still streaming down. And Hux kisses him, sucks on lips salty and sweet. Drinks down Ren’s whimpers and knows that he is the the truth, and Ren his willing disciple.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/>@saltandlimes</a>)


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